


Prelude

by renysen



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha Victor Nikiforov, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Omega Katsuki Yuuri, Omegaverse, not crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 14:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10901469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renysen/pseuds/renysen
Summary: Yuuri wakes up after the Sochi banquet, not in his room and with Viktor Nikiforov handcuffed in the bathroom.





	Prelude

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why I felt the need to write this. Any questions on how this universe expands from here will be answered in the comments.

There was pain in his head. The world spinned as he tried to lift his head from the bed's pillows.

Where? What? Ah, Sochi...

Yuuri blinked up at the ceiling in confusion. Turning his head sideways to more or less get an idea of where he was. Hotel room. Okay, he could live with that.

He tried to lift his head, only for his head to swim and his hips to twinge in pain. Hips?

He then noticed the abscence of clothes, the throb of his hips and soreness of his ass. He had never personally experienced this before but it rung very much like...

Yuuri pushed the blankets down his torso, still not ready to try to sit up again. As far as his eye could see, he had hickeys everywhere. Peaking from under the covers, a bruise lined his hip and Yuuri felt faint.

Just what had happened yesterday?

He remembered vague details about the banquet but nothing really concrete. He remembered champagne and music, then just dizzy motion and snippets of color.

He then notices a silence that hadn't been there before, as movement from inside the bathroom. He sits up abruptly and pain flares throughout his spine before settling in his lower back and pelvis.

He gasps in pain as the door opens.

A head of lightly colored hair with bright blue eyes peers out from behind the doorframe, "…Yuuri?"

The voice was accented and familiar, and head peaking out from behind the bathroom's doorframe is from a person kneeling and he seems worried... And it's Viktor? The name drops from his lips harshly as his brain tries to understand just what he's looking at. He pulls the covers back up without a single thought about it.

"Ah... Good morning, Yuuri." There's an uncharacteristic hesitance that Yuuri doesn't understand until he does, but he really can't bring himself to piece it together. It fails to compute. "How are you feeling?"

Yuuri is officially freaking out.

He starts babbling, "Viktor, what's going on? What happened last night? What are doing you here? Why are you kneeling? What's going on? I don't understand." He repeats all of these cyclically and in complete disorder.

"Yuuri, please calm down. Yuuri!" Viktor calls out but Yuuri can't. He can't. He doesn't understand. His head aches, he's dizzy, his body is shaking and he's naked in bed with his longtime idol and the implications of that are more than he can handle and...

When Yuuri comes back to, Viktor is banging his head against the doorframe.

"Viktor?" he asks softly, arms stinging with burns from nail scratches.

The banging continues for a few minutes more, Viktor's bangs falling over his face bringing a sense of mystery to his expression along with the flat line of his mouth.

"Yuuri...?" Viktor's voice seems alien and Yuuri can't pinpoint what the inflection in his voice means, "... I'm sorry."

If Yuuri had been worried over everything before that declaration, it was nothing compared with how nerve wrecking it was when Viktor restarted his head banging.

"Viktor..." He's lost for words, but he has to do something before Viktor seriously injures himself. "Viktor, please, tell me what happened last night."

The silence drags on, "VIKTOR!" Yuuri presses.

The older man sighs and drags his free hand through his fringe, position awkward but still captivating. "It was… the best night of my life."

It was like looking at heartbreak to the face, a beautiful face that you thought should never look that broken inside, but there he is, smiling wistfully, uneasily. A happy memory contaminated by regret. There's an ugly feeling growing in his chest over that, he doesn't want to be a sore subject to his idol.

"After so many years, competitions all blend together and no one is surprised anymore. Motivation becomes harder and harder to come by, I thought... I thought this would be more of the same, but I was wrong. I was so wrong," his tone is blissful, reverent, and Yuuri doesn't feel like he's being talked about at all.

"A beautiful Japanese man, last place in the rankings, whipping out dance offs and winning. You gave us so much life, so much love. It was the best thing that could have happened to me." Viktor repositions himself on the floor, so his legs face inside the bathroom and his face presses against the doorframe. A rattling sound of clinking chain and the high pitch scratching of sharp edges of metal against metal.

His back is covered in scratches and hickies litter his shoulder blades. Yuuri feels his cheeks burn up, had he been the one to put those there?

The smell of arousal begins to permeate the room and Yuuri tries his best to push the rising desire down, his instincts demanding him to do something about it and there's a growing smugness about being the one to provoke it, which is ridiculous.

Also, Viktor Nikiforov is in rut?!

It paints a bad picture of what happened last night but it is somehow slightly more forgivable, now that it no longer seems like a man in full use of his faculties took advantage of a drunk Japanese man. As crazy as it seems, Yuuri finds it easier to believe that his rut is responsible for the situation they're in.

It still doesn't paint him favorably, but Yuuri is on suppressants so it isn't as much of a problem as it could have been.

The jangling of metal against the bathroom's doorknob brings Yuuri back to the guttural sounds of arousal coming from his idol. From what he can seen of the older man, his mouth is clamping down on the towel draped over his shoulders, he curls in on himself and his arm pushes his body against the frame in familiar jerking manner.

Yuuri wants to leave, he wants to look away and give his idol the courtesy he deserves, but he also wants to see this beautiful man come apart at the seams. He can't look away. He can't.

Guttural groans and moans escape from Viktor's lips, muffled by the towel, but even so he can hear something vaguely similar to his name as the last drawn out cry rips itself out of Viktor's throat.

He doesn't understand Russian however, so it could have been anything really.

(Does he want it to be his name?)

(He'd be lying if he said yes.)

(He'd be lying if he said no.)

(He's not sure what to think about that...)

Viktor slumps against the doorframe, his chest puffing up and sliming down with every breath. His ribs disappearing underneath pale skin and fit muscle, a topography of hills that hypnotically drew in eyes like his own down each curve.

Blue eyes lean out and mouth visibly parted with heavy breathing curls its edges as heated gazes meet, Yuuri averts his eyes as he works to control his desire.

"Yuuri," came the husky russian voice before he hastily clears his throat, "Yuuri," now the sound is less likely to do dangerous things to his heart, "you move like your body makes music. Why..." Arousal began to peak again, "what happened to you?"

Memories were painful, visceral and overwhelming. His skin grew pale and cold, his heart hurting as Vicchan entertained memories as dear as they were now painful.

Tears fell without a single thought about it, however this time he wasn't allowed to fall into his own thoughts.

"YUURI!" Viktor urged, voice caught between a growl and a scream, "If nothing else, tell me this: Do you want me?"

Yuuri couldn't speak, his throat was closing on him. Vicchan's death was so fresh, so close to his heart. He tried his best though, because this was Viktor.

His first attempt failed, the words weren't coming. "I- I don't...know."

The towel began to slip off Viktor's neck. "I can't handle indecision right now. Yes or no, Yuuri. Please." A moan broke from his mouth as he tipped forward, towel falling off one of his shoulders and revealing a bright red mark on Viktor's neck. Freshly made and... and it made terrifying amounts of sense now. Yuuri had thrown himself on Viktor and had bitten him, making the other man have a reactionary rut. Yuuri had... he had...

"Yes." Yuuri said, because this was Viktor and Yuuri... Yuuri had no right to him, but he wanted Viktor. He had always wanted Viktor.

He could feel Viktor react to that, but Yuuri knew him too little to know what that reaction meant. "Go then. I will find you. Go before I hurt you."

Yuuri started, "Viktor, this is my fault... I should..."

"NO. You don't deserve this, Yuuri. You deserve better. Let me try to give you that. Please."

Yuuri stood shakily from the bed and got all his things, dressing with his crumpledsoaked clothes from last night and slipped out the door.

Four months later, Viktor Nikiforov came to Hasetsu to coach him.


End file.
